That portrait is great,
That portrait is grand.
It looks out at me,
Through a hazy pane.
While gazing at that portrait,
I see an artist’s touch.
This portrait is real,
It has so much life.

The closer I look,
The more I can see.
Every line,
Every shape,
Every color.
How can this be,
I’ve found a blemish,
I can see his faults.
The once thought perfect artist,
Is nothing more to me.
Then a man with a pen and paper,
Making pictures for me to see.

I wish I hadn’t looked so close,
I wish I hadn’t seen.
The true person looking out at me,
From behind this deceiving scene.
I liked it how it was,
Before I found the truth.
But now I know,
I can’t go back,
To the way things used to be.